


What was your first time killing like, Beanstalk?

by DeQuidt



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Aether Foundation, Blood, Gen, Pokemon Sun and Moon, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8325007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeQuidt/pseuds/DeQuidt
Summary: [Branch-chief--faba on Tumblr.]Faba remembers his life before the Foundation. How it was and how it changed him.





	

“You are going to kill someone.”

Those were the words his teacher decided to start with. He was young then. Inexperienced but passionate. While all his friends had different ambitions in life he always knew he was going to be a doctor. He couldn’t explain where it came from. He had no sob story about a family member being sick. He hadn’t an ambition to cure a certain type of decease. He was just fascinated with the practice. The fact that complete strangers would put faith in an equally complete stranger to fix or cure them was simply fascinating.

While his friends opted to be police officers or firefighters he always knew he was going to be a doctor.

Suddenly the day was there. He was finally able to become a doctor. If he was a more sentimental person he would call this day the ‘first day of the rest of his life’ but he wasn’t such a person.

He looked at his teacher as he addressed him and those like him: inexperienced doctors who just came out of medical school. A feeling rose in the bottom of his stomach. To this day he cannot explain that feeling. He still can’t put a name on it. There was something quite ‘off’ about his teacher. That was his thought then. How can someone, anyone, speak so lightly of life. “You are going to kill someone.” He repeated those words a couple of time in his head. No matter how many times he repeated it. It didn’t start to sound any better. In fact. It started to sound worse.

“Uhm, Excuse me?” A young looking woman next to him had raised her hand hesitantly. “What do you mean by that?” She asked. Faba looked at the woman next to him. Half jealous that he didn’t had the guts to ask that question, half pissed that she would defy her better. Didn’t she know her place?

Faba was a fan of hierarchy and structure. If everyone preformed his or her task the world would be in balance. He despises those who think they can go against their better. Lesser being should rely on their betters to guide them, guard them and cure them.

Their teacher didn’t seem to mind her remark. In fact he seemed to welcome it. “It’s easy.” He gleefully explained. “We battle with death, each and every day. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose.” An unnatural silence engulfed the room. How many of them had thought of the fact that people might actually die on their watch? Faba did. Of course he did. He wanted this since he was a boy. Doctors cure people but not everything can be cured. Of course eventually someone had to die. If he was in this for the long run, and he planned to be, then the death of a patient would be inevitable. Perhaps he would make a wrong judgment. Perhaps he would mess up an operation. Life in the hospital was a gamble and there were no redo’s. One mistake and it could be over. And yet hearing someone else talk about it, so lightly even, made him feel uneasy. Suddenly years of certainty changed into doubt. Was this for him? What if he killed his very first patient? What if his colleagues would ostracize him? What if the family would sue? He would lose his dream, his ambition, everything he worked for.

He felt his throat becoming dry. He has dealt with panic and anxiety in the past but he thought he’d be better by now. Al those exercises he did. He felt his mind trailing away from the subject at hand. He tried his best to force his thoughts back on track.

“Did you ever kill someone?” It was his voice that disturbed the silence this time. He immediately regretted his decision to speak. His voice sounded weak, dry and broken. That, and he just went against his own creed: respect your betters. He couldn’t help it. The words were out before he could stop them.

His teacher shot him a look. Unable to identify the feelings behind it he looked away. Embarrassed. Faba, you idiot. That familiar voice. Why are you so hell bent on ruining everything before it has even stated? He ignored the voice inside his head. That voice that rewarded itself with the title ‘voice of reason.’ Ha. What a joke. Yet he knew that this voice would come and haunt him tonight. When everything is quiet and there is no one else around.

After what seemed like hours his teacher spoke. “Several in fact. The first one was in my first couple of month actually.” His teacher placed himself upon his desk. “I was young then, younger than some of you are. It was a busy few weeks. Patients coming in and out. We barely had any time to chat with our patients. I think it had to something with an epidemic of some sort. I’ve forgotten to be honest.’

He’d forgotten? Faba looked at his own slim fingers. Forgotten? How? How could you forget?

He felt the room become absolutely silent again. The murmurs that arose with the teacher’s story died down. It took him a few moments to realise that he was the reason for their silence. He didn’t say the last part out loud did he? Judging by the teacher, he did.

“Well, I’ve had my fair share of patients. Most live!” He tried a joke. The class laughed a uncomfortable laugh. “Hey, don’t think I’m a murderer. I do try. I try everyday but I do not blame myself for their deaths.” A shock went through the room. “The moment that you start doing that. You lose. It’s over. Pack up. End of the line.” He stood up from his desk. “Make that your new creed. Do. Not. Blame. Yourself.” He emphasized those last words. “Let me level with you here. People are going to die and it’s going to suck. Sometimes you could have avoided their deaths. Sometimes you don’t. Take a moment to grief and then move on.”

“I’m not going to forget.” Faba felt his own voice fill the room again. “I’m not going to forget them.” He felt the fire in his own eyes, the passion burning in his heart. “I might kill someone.. but I’m not going to forget.” He scared himself. He never acted this way before. He always followed in line. Never questioned the orders and ideas of those better than him. He hated himself right now. Part of him hoped that his alarm clock would ring in a bit and this was like a future-telling-dream he once saw in a horrendous horror-movie. But he knew better. This was happening.

“In that case, I won’t even bother learning your name.” His teacher looked at him with a cold stare. “You won’t be here for long.”

Faba gritted his teeth. Not knowing at that point that his teacher was right.

The following months were hell. He was a capable doctor all right but his colleagues didn’t dare to go near him. All heading the words their teacher said towards the slender man during their first meeting. “You won’t be here for long.”

The stress of not having a social life did a number on him. His none medical-friends he had before he went to work at this hospital were always busy. He mostly got nightshifts. They worked during the day. He during the night. He would go through weeks without seeing any of them. He was updated on their lives via online messages and e-mails.

“Hey, we’re going out for dinner tonight, wanna come?”

“Dude, we’re going to that place that we went to when we seniors in high school, you should come!”

“Turns out she’s having a baby. I know right! We should pay them a visit”

He always knew how to reply those texts. He’d tell them that he love too but he the hospital gave him another night shift.

Eventually. The invites would stop coming. His phone only vibrating for spam, game request and work e-mail.

His hair started to go. First it became lighter then it would start falling out. His hairline was decreasing. He tried to make it work but he hated it. To compensate he started to grow his facial hair out. First he looked terrible, then less terrible, then kinda decent. Though the patients of the pediatric wing would avoid him and started to use him in his stories about scary doctors and creepy scientists.

Then his emotions left him. He felt numb. That’s it. Nothing gave him joy. Nothing made him sad. He woke up. Did his function. Went back to sleep. That’s what he did. Even the things he used to enjoy were suddenly boring, tiring, and useless.

“Thank you, doctor!” They would say.

“I feel so much better.”

“Thank you so much for your time.”

He would just look at them. Expressionless. “You’re welcome.” He’d say, voice drained of any emotion. “Remember to take your meds.” He would sometimes add.

But what killed his career was his shaking. He started to lose sleep. The stress and lack of sleep made his hand shake. At first he could control it. Then it became a problem. First he started to have problems with inserting the IV. He would hurt his patients and he’d hated it. At least. He told himself he hated it. He didn’t feel anger at himself. He didn’t feel sad for hurting his patients. He didn’t feel anything.

When he was up for review he managed to puncture the wrong vein while his boss was watching.

He was fired a short time there after.

He wasn’t angry. Or sad. Yes all he worked for was destroyed. Years and years of studying down the drain. All that money invested, all those social events missed. When they told him he was fired he said a single word. “Okay.” He got up. Cleaned out his locker and left.

A few years passed. Taking up jobs everywhere. Packing items in a warehouse, delivering food, doing stuff that some might not consider totally legal. All to pay the rent. He never had a job long.

“We don’t think you fit in our profile after all.” They would tell him. “We find you incredibly unsettling.” He heard.

“We just feel like you don’t feel our policy, you know?” They’d explain. “Come back when you’ve found your emotions.” They meant.

There were also times he was fired on the spot for failing to show up for a couple of days. He couldn’t bring himself to go to work. So he stayed in. Not telling anyone. Not that anyone cared. He felt lonely. Lost. His purpose was gone. He drifted through those years of his life. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t live at all.

It wasn’t until years after he got fired from his job that he finally found his purpose again.

It was late at night. He decided to open his window. His home was shabby, dirty and he was pretty sure someone was murdered in here. Still it was his home. When he opened the window he heard noises come from below him. The alley was a popular spot for young people to get some ‘medicine’ and other illegal business. He never paid it much mind. It was part of his home. Usually he would ignore the sounds coming from there. As did most locals. Today felt different. He moved his slender body out of the window so he was standing on the fire exit. He squatted down and squinted his eyes to try and see who or what was making that noise.

The sound came from a company of three people. One person was lying on the ground, bend over in the fetal position. The other two towered over the person on the ground. They threaded the person on the floor with their mouths closed. Sounds escaping from between their clenched teeth. One of them kicked the figure on the ground and spat. Then, probably satisfied with their handiwork, they left. As soon as they left the alley completely. Faba went back into his flat and for some reason, and he still can’t explain it, grabbed his long coat and walked downstairs and into the alley.

When he saw the figure on the ground was still there he walked towards them and dropped on his knees next to them, dirtying his clothes as his body came in contact with the cold ground.

He moved the figure’s body a bit to see that his face was a literal bloody mess. They were missing a few teeth, though he couldn’t tell it was from that encounter of one before. The flesh on his face looked raw and purple. Their lip was split open and a fresh stream of blood trickled down from their nose. The figure opened their mouth as to speak but nothing came out.

Faba cupped the injured strangers face with his hands. He positioned his new companions face is such a way that they looked each other straight in the eye. Faba recognized that look. A desperate plea. When he was still a doctor he saw this face very often. Family members, lovers or the patients themselves all looked at him with this look in their eyes. Desperation. Not willing to die but fully knowing that if they wouldn’t get help soon, death would come and take them.

He let go of their face and traced his slender fingers over other parts of their body. Every now and then he’d stop to press a certain point. The stranger either responded faintly or not at all. Which was positive; it meant that nothing was broken and their face sustained the most damages.

Faba stood up, took his coat off and draped it of the body of the stranger. Then he picked them up. One hand carefully placed under their arms and supporting their back. The other supporting their legs. He was slender and frail but he still had some of his strength. Carrying a person like this came easy. After all; he did carry patients around when he was still practicing his profession. He didn’t have nurses to do it for him and eventually he chose not too. He didn’t want to get anyone involved in his mess.

The bloodied stranger rested their head against his shoulder as he took them with them; back to his flat. He thought to himself that he was lucky to live where he lived. No one would question this. It’s was a ‘bad’ part of town. No one ever saw anything and if they did they’d be wise enough to not tell anyone. It was hard to tell which people you could trust around here.

He arrived at his front door, just now realizing that he never locked it in the first place. No matter. Not that he had anything worth stealing.

He put the stranger on his bed. Well, mattress that he used as a couch, bed, table, relax spot. It was probably the nicest thing that he owned and that was saying much considering the shape the thing was in. Faba thought to himself that this creature in his presence must be in really great pain or really scared to not try to get away. Being led into a stranger’s house without struggling went against nature. Faba looked down at the stranger for a moment then went and got some medical supplies he always kept around. Force of habit. He started to tend to the stranger. First cleaning the wounds. Ignoring the painful hisses they made when he pressed a cloth with disinfection gel on it.

He opened their eyelid and shined a small flashlight in it. The eye reacted fine. Another piece of good news. Faba squeezed the nose. Though the reaction was less than pleasant it didn’t seem broken. Finally he opened the strangers mouth. A few teeth were missing but they were knocked clean out. Which was another good piece of news. Well… unless the stranger wanted their teeth. Which they most likely would. Finally he put an icepack on their brushed face.

“Take these.” He ordered the stranger. “Swallowing might hurt now, but It’ll help.” He helped the stranger up a bit so they weren’t fully upright but not laying down either. Faba put two pain killers in the strangers mouth and gave them some water to drink. Most of it spilled, mixing with the blood already on his beloved furniture item.

Whether it was the pain or the painkillers; the stranger fell asleep soon after Faba laid them down again.

He sat next to them on his cold hard floor. He knew what happened here. He never actually seen it before but he knew what happened. People like this person never actually visited the hospital. They got injured while doing something illegal. Going to the hospital called unwanted attention to them and they probably have to explain how they got hurt. Most of these people visit vets or a retired doctor who’d help them for extra cash or protection.

When the heat of the sun touched his face he realized that this whole ordeal took longer than he thought. He looked at his hands. He didn’t wear gloves which is why they were caked with the strangers blood. He walked to the little sink in the corner of his flat and washed it hands. Then he hoisted himself up so he could sit on the one kitchen cabinet he owned. It had an oven in it but it broke before he even got the place. He preferred sitting on the cabinet. He had a perfect overview of his small flat. More importantly he could keep his eyes on the stranger he rescued. He didn’t feel happiness or pride in his work. He just blankly starred ahead.

The stranger took longer than he hoped to wake up. It was already late in the afternoon when they first opened their eyes. Faba watched them open their eyes. He saw the realization that they weren’t home. He saw them shot up from the mattress and then collapse again.

“Nothing is broken but you should take it easy.” He spoke to the stranger in his midst.

“Who are ya?” Barked the stranger. Even though they were missing a few teeth they made themselves perfectly clear. Perhaps they did lose their teeth before this, Faba thought to himself.

When Faba didn’t response fast enough the stranger started to pat their sides as to search for a wallet.

“Looking for this?” Faba said while holding up a small weapon. This time he remembered to wear gloves. The last thing he needed was jail time by being framed for something. That truly would be the nail in his coffin. “I took it from you.” Faba said when he saw the surprised look in their eyes. “Last night. When I helped you.”

“And now you’re going to rat me out, is that it?”

“No.”

“So ya want money, if that’s the case, I don’t got any.”

“I don’t want money.”

“Then why’d save me doc?” Faba didn’t particularly care for the way he said that last word but he didn’t care enough to say something about it.

“I don’t know, I guess I wanted to help”

“Well, no one asked ya to help. Ya look creepy as shit, Frankenstein. What’s next? If I don’t play along I’m gonna end up dead and cut up in pieces in ya freezer.”

“I don’t own a freezer.” Faba replied, rather matter of factly. It was the truth. He didn’t own a freezer. He’d miss ice cream sometimes..

“I don’t want you to play any game, I just want you to be capable to leave.”

“So you helped me out of the kindness of your own heart? Aw, doc. Such love! ‘suppose you be wanting my name?”

“No.”

“Whaddya mean no!?” The stranger sounded offended.

“I mean I don’t care for your name.”

“Then what’s in this for ya? Why waste time on me?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. Faba didn’t know why he helped this creature.

“Door is open, if you want to leave. Weapon is on the cabinet here. Take it with you when you leave please.”

“Can ya help me up, doc?”

Faba let himself slide of the cabinet and walked towards the stranger. He helped them up carefully. When he was sure the stranger could stand by themselves he let go. This was the first time they met when they were both standing. The stranger barely reached Faba’s chest. Faba took a guess at their age; probably not older than 20 years old. He thought about himself when he was that age. Cooped up away in his dorm room. Studying. That was his life.

“Well, uhm. Thanks.” The stranger backed away from Faba, never once breaking eye contact. They found their way to the cabinet, picked up the weapon and made way to the door. “Want me to close it?”

“That would be preferred.”

And with those words their encounter ended.

A few weeks went by. Faba almost forgot about the stranger in the alley that he helped until one evening. It was late and he had decided to turn in early. He was staring at the ceiling for a few hours now when he heard an unfamiliar sound. A sound he hadn’t heard in years: The sound of someone knocking on his door. He got up, threw on some clothes and looked through the tiny peephole in the door. The light on the hallway was bad but he could just make out two figures. One he’d recognized; the stranger from before. The other was new to him. He hesitantly opened up the door a crack. He wasn’t scared but he didn’t know what this dynamic duo was up to.

“Yes?”

“Hey, doc. Can ya help? ‘tis my friend here. Badly hurt, see?”

Faba opened the door a bit more and he saw that the second person was badly hurt.

“Stabbed.” Answered the familiar-stranger to a question Faba didn’t ask.

“You can fix that shit, right?”

Faba could, indeed, fix that ‘shit’.

“Listen, I know what yer thinkin’: what’s in it for me? Well lemme just say tha-“

“I don’t want anything.” Faba cut them off before they could finish their sentence. “Help your friend. Lay them down for me.”

No one spoke a word as Faba tended to the wound. It wasn’t a deep wound and nothing seemed to be badly damaged.

“Shit, doc.” The familiar stranger said when Faba finished up. “Ya, get off by doin’ this or what?”

“No.”

“Okay, so yer done with dealin’ with my friend here?”

“Yes. They need rest though.”

“Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah, rest, that’s great. Hey somethin’ been bothering me since we first met..”

Faba turned to look them in the eye.

“Why didn’t ye want my name, or rat me out?”

“I told you. I don’t care.”

“Ye, but-“

“Do. Not. Care.”

“Yea, well so. Like, when ya saved me last time. Ya did an amazing job, ya know that? Like super good.” They smiled at Faba, revealing that they were still missing teeth. “Like all the boys were amazed! Told me, wow! Q! The guts of ya to go to an actual doctor!?” Their name was Q? Faba thought that to be weird but since was named after a bean, truly the worst of vegetables, he had no right to speak. “So, I go with the lie ofcourse, because shit, that works! Told ‘em; yea! Totally did, dudes. Went there, got myself healed up and pow! Back in action.” Q looked like a small child who just got a good grade on a assignment they faked. “But now I have a problem, see, like… uhm.” He averted his gaze.

“You want me to keep patching you up?” Faba asked Q.

“Yea! Like, totally that’d be cool but.. you seriously don’t want anything?”

Faba looked up and twirled his goatee around his index finger. “I’m going to grow low on medical supplies so I want those.”

“YE! Sure, ANYTHING!” Q shouted. Probably unintentional.

“Do you have a place?” Faba asked. While this neighborhood cared little about the things that happened he knew that getting frequent visits from badly injured people would draw attention to him. Furthermore; he knew that Q and their friend sustained a special kind of injury: a warning. If the party who did this to them knew that Faba was helping them. It might end badly for him.

“Ye, it’s not big but if ya want ya can go there..”

“That’d be great.”

“Well, I send someone over to come and show ya were it is. I’ll go run ahead and tell the big boss that yer helping. He’d like that. Uhm. Ya take care of this dude for me while I’m away, right?”

“Sure.”

“Ah, ya is truly great, doc!” Q was already standing in the door opening. “Oh and doc? Smiling never killed anyone, ya know?” Q flashed Faba his brightest possible smile and then ran off.

Such began a new chapter of his life. A part of his life when he worked for a criminal organization. He never knew what they were up too, who their members were or even who the boss was. All he knew was that apparently the boss stole medication from a hospital and sold them on the street for recreational use. The only person Faba knew was Q. They’d come check up on him every now and again but never stayed long. Faba didn’t mind. He didn’t mind the company, he didn’t like it either. 

It was bothering him. The fact that, even though he was back in his field, even though he was again fulfilling his purpose. He didn’t feel anything. No joy, no pain, no happiness, no sadness, no anger, nothing. He didn’t knew then but that was about to change very, very soon.

Since the practices of the organization weren’t exactly legal. Faba worked at night. At first working there was hard. Q made sure he got his supplies, yes but as with everything; the first few times are not without hiccups. After a while Q managed to get a small team together. They all had some knowledge of medicine and managed to get the stuff Faba asked them to get. Every once in a blue moon. He’d allowed some of them to help during his more dangerous operations.

Bullet wounds, stab wounds, founds from fighting, small injuries, questions about sex, questions about drugs. He did it all. After a while of working they even replaced the operation table with a, in Q’s words, a way cooler one. They told him that they’d stolen it from an old asylum. Though Faba could’ve guessed that from the way the table looked. It had come outfitted with straps. A trademark of the old asylums. Faba never used them. He never had reason too.

“Doc!” Q came running in. Their face looked like he saw a ghost. “’tis the boss, man, he got shot, ya hafta help!” Faba didn’t like it when Q lost their cool. Not because he cared about them but because they became incoherent.

“Bring him in then.”

A small group of people helped the man up. His head was lolling on his shoulder and Faba didn’t see the face of the ‘boss’. “Put him on the table.” Faba ordered the group. As they did Faba could finally see the face of the big boss, the man all of them feared.

He got a sinking feeling when he saw the man. The first feeling he felt in years and it was the same feeling when he openly went against his better all those years ago. How ironic it was that the person who was responsible for that feeling then was the same person that was responsible for that feeling now.

There he was, laying on the table. White as a sheet and sweating like a sinner in church. His eyes were squeezed closed due to the pain. The bottom half of his shirt was drenched in black blood. The boss pressed his hands against the wound. His hand shiny and slippery with ruby red blood.

“DOC!” Q’s voice snapped Faba back to reality. He had trouble comprehending that he was working for this person all this time. He swallowed deeply, slapped himself twice on the cheek and went to work.

Faba managed. It was touch and go a couple of times but dear lord he managed. Though the long term damage was yet to be determent; he managed to save this man’s life.

His vitals were stable. The bullet only grazed his vital organs by sheer luck. It wouldn’t be long before he’d woke up.

“So… is he going to make it?” It was Q. He was standing in the door opening, having decided for himself that Faba was done.

“I don’t know.” Faba lied. We have to see. “There are a few tests I need to run before I can tell if he’s going to make it. Go home, Q. I need to do this alone.”

Maybe it was the fact that Faba never asked for anything that he didn’t really need or Q read the mood but they left without a single comment or complaint.

Faba looked at the man on his table. Dragging his slender fingers over the exposed skin. Before reaching the part where the straps hung loose. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d strap the man on the table in. “Could’ve just let you die.” He said.

“But you didn’t.” His former teacher spoke. His voice was weak but audible. “We’ve met? You look familiar.” The simple sentence took long for the man to say. Every other word being interrupted by a painful sounding breath.

“Tsk.” Faba made that sound out loud and for the first time in years he felt an emotion he could identify: complete and utter disgust mixed with a good helping of anger. He felt that, if he spoke now, his voice would shake and he wouldn’t let his former teacher have the satisfaction, even though he didn’t remember Faba anymore.

“Can you untie me, now?”

“No.”

The man tried to look Faba in the eye. Which was hard considering he was strapped to the table by the arms, legs and neck.

“Wait.” Heavy breath.

“I do heavy breath remember you.”

“I’m honored” Faba lied trying his best to not let any emotion shine through his voice.

“Yea, You were that boy. Huh. Mr. Never-kills-anyone.”

“I never did kill anyone.” It wasn’t a question but Faba wanted to make sure that the older man knew.

“Got rid of you, like what, two months in? No wonder you never managed to kill anyone.”

“Six actually. Six months, seven days and four hours but who’s counting.” Faba was.

Faba had enough. He gritted his teeth while he walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a syringe. He tapped the vial so the liquid would go through the needle with more ease while he walked back to the man.

“What you’re gonna do- AH!”

Faba didn’t even try to be careful. He secretly hoped that the needle would break.

“What’s that?”

“Anesthesia.”

The man scoffed a bit through his heavy breaths. “You are stupider than you look then, this isn’t nearly enough for a man my size. This way I can feel everyth-“ He suddenly stopped speaking finally realizing what the anesthesia was for. “No!” His shout was loud but no one heard.

Faba watched the man struggle against his constraints while jotting something down in a small note book he kept in his pockets. A remainder of his doctor days. He held up the notebook to the tied down man’s face.

“This was your name, right?”

The man nodded. “Why?” Faba could hear fear in his voice.

“I told you right?” Faba felt his face doing something strange. He felt his lips curl into a smile. He felt his body being filled with a warm happiness. His voice became it’s old passionate self. It’s like his entire soul had finally come home from a very long vacation.

“I told you I wouldn’t forget those who I kill.”

After the voice of the man faded into nothing.

After a moments of pure torture.

After the man’s heart finally stopped beating.

Faba felt alive.

“So,” Faba said to the stranger who’d asked him how he felt when he killed. “Happy now? I must say that this is the weirdest final request I’ve had..”

He whipped out the small notebook from his pocket and flipped through it until he reached the half way part.

“What did you say you name was again?” Faba smiled as he clicked the back of his pen.

**Author's Note:**

> I made Faba a doctor (though canon suggests he is more of a scientist) because I felt it suited him.


End file.
